


Five Times Peggy Saved Angie

by Laimelde



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laimelde/pseuds/Laimelde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and one time Angie returned the favour.</p><p>Basically what it says on the tin. Starts out during season one when both girls are living at the Griffith Hotel, progresses through to post-season one. Includes reference to an AU meeting with Ana Jarvis, because this was written before I watched season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Peggy Saved Angie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etux/gifts).



“English! Where’ve you been? I’ve been banging on your door for an hour!”

Peggy was taken by surprise as Angie rushed at her. She managed to get her key in the lock and her room door open.

“I was at work, of course - what’s the matter?”

“You know those girls from Tuesday’s audition, who invited me out? I’m supposed to meet them in half an hour and I can’t find my favourite barrette anywhere!” She entered the room on Peggy’s heels and started combing through the items on the dresser.

Peggy put her handbag on the bed and turned to Angie incredulously. “All this is about a barrette?”

“Not just any barrette - my favorite barrette. You know the red one? Prettiest thing I’ve ever owned, and I wanted to make a good impression, and now it’s lost.”

“Well, I haven’t borrowed it. I would have asked.”

Angie sighed and gave up, turning to lean against the dresser. “No, I know. I just thought maybe I’d wandered in here and absently put it down. I know I had it last week - I wore it to work on Friday, and it was definitely in my room on Sunday, but now it’s just gone.”

Peggy smiled sympathetically. “I assume you’ve looked under the bed? Behind your dresser? In the wardrobe?”

“Yes, yes and yes. Several times. It’s like it just walked away.”

“It doesn’t matter, you know. You don’t need the barrette for them to like you.”

Angie clutched her heart and gasped dramatically. “Margaret! How dare you! To say it doesn’t matter; my precious barrette, so perfect and good! Lost in its prime!” She collapsed onto Peggy’s bed, eyes heavenward.

“Alright, alright, give it up,” Peggy groused, trying to hide her amusement. How Angie hadn’t won an acting role was beyond her - she lived her life as a drama. She crossed to the dresser. “What if I could fix this for you?”

“You can magically find my barrette?” Angie lifted her head to peer at her.

“No, but I could loan you this one.” She pulls out a drawer and from it, a barrette in royal blue, the ribbons edged with red. “Will it do for tonight?”

Angie leapt to her feet and crossed in a moment, slowing down to take the barrette from Peggy’s hand with care. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I know. And I haven’t worn it yet, so you better not lose it.”

“I’ll treat it like my firstborn. Better, even.” She lifted the barrette and used Peggy’s mirror to place it in her hair just so. “What do you think?”

“Looks like the perfect finishing touch. Where are you meeting these girls?”

“Down by Cosgroves. Which - oh heavens, I’m going to be late!” Angie dashed out the door and reappeared a moment later, handbag now in hand. “Thank you so much, I’ll give it right back when I get home, I swear!”

“You better. What time will you be in?”

“Between eight and nine. Wait up for me?”

“Always,” Peggy smiled, and Angie dashed away. “Have fun!”

* * *

  

There was one major problem with living at the Griffith Hotel, and it was easy to spot: Miriam Fry. The woman was everywhere, seemingly awake at all hours and aware of everything happening under her roof despite her tenants best efforts. Angie’s smuggled schnapps was the only time Peggy knew that a rule had been broken and Miriam hadn’t even suspected.

Of course, Peggy had managed to sneak Stark into the building and keep him hidden there for more than a day, so the matron was not actually all-knowing. But even then she had been very suspicious, and it was pure luck that had seen Peggy through.

So when Peggy looked out her window to see Angie rushing for the main entrance just after ten in the evening, she immediately headed downstairs.

Miriam Fry’s magic sixth sense for knowing when someone was breaking the rules was in full force, and Peggy could hear the scolding in full swing before she even reached the entrance hall.

“…Completely unacceptable. You’re aware of the rules like everyone else, Angela Martinelli, I don’t know why you think there would be some exemption for yourself. Curfew is ten sharp, no exceptions. What time do you call this? And what excuses do you have lined up? No, actually, don’t bother. I’m not interested in hearing them.”

Peggy figured she’d better step in before Miriam concluded the speech with ‘go pack your things’. “I’m sorry, Ms Fry, it’s my fault.” She coughed into her hand and approached them slowly. Angie stared at her wide-eyed, and Peggy hoped she’d catch on quickly.

“What do you mean, Miss Carter?” Miriam demanded.

“I’ve come down with a cold,” Peggy said, keeping her movements lethargic and sniffling for effect. “I left my medicine at work and Angie volunteered to fetch it for me. I don’t think I could get a wink of sleep without it, you see - this cough has been keeping me up terribly.” She punctuated the sentence with another cough.

Miriam Fry frowned at her, and then turned her frown back to Angie. “Well?”

It took Angie a moment, but then she was scrambling through her handbag and pulling out the bottle. It was half-empty and had Doctor Vidal’s Cough and Cold Remedy written on the side. Miriam peered at it, apparently unimpressed, before fixing them with another displeased look.

“Very well. On this one occasion I will let it slip, given your altruistic purpose and the fact that you are only a few minutes late. But I suggest Miss Carter keep a closer hand on her belongings - I won’t permit this to become a habit, understood?”

They both nodded and murmured their understanding, and Miriam dismissed them to their rooms, heading back to her private office.

Angie made a show of assisting Peggy until they were up the stairs and around the corner. “Gosh Peggy, are you sure you don’t want to come along to some of my auditions? Your acting is amazing!”

Peggy laughed, relaxing out of her ‘illness’. “I think I’d rather leave that to you.”

“If you say so. But really, that was impressive - how could you possibly have known I still had that bottle of cough medicine in my bag?”

“You never throw anything out, and you keep it all in that bag, Angie - I bet there’s things much older than the syrup from last month’s headcold in there.”

“Fair point, English. I think there might be a toffee I bought back in Easter in the bottom somewhere.”

“Oh gross, Angie.”

* * *

  

“Here, just let us out here!” cried Angie in a panic, and the driver obediently pulled to a stop.

Peggy already had her purse out and quickly settled the tab before joining her friend on the sidewalk. 

“We’re too late, Peggy,” said Angie, even as Peggy rushed her up the steps. “It’s already three.”

“It’s two minutes to three, and you only have to register by three. Auditions finish whenever the last person has been seen. Quickly now,” Peggy replied, and they entered the dark foyer of the New Theater. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and she spotted the registrar, who was just closing his book. “Excuse me,” she called. 

He turned to look at them, then checked his watch. “You ladies are cutting it fine, aren’t you?”

“We are in time though, are we not?” Peggy asked.

“Suppose you are, but the panel have already seen the last girl and are packing up. You’d better catch them and hope they’re in a generous mood.”

“Oh, we should just give up, English. Look at me, I’m a mess anyway, there’s no way I’ll get the part looking like this.” Angie indicated her hair and make up, both of which were mussed from the day’s unexpected adventure.

Peggy wasn’t about to let her give up after all it had taken to get this far. “You can do it Angie, you know this part inside out. Now, mister, if you could put her name down, it’s Angela Martinelli. Angie, the bathroom is just across the foyer here. You have two minutes to freshen up. Leave the panel to me.” Then she stalked down the hall to the room labelled ‘Auditions’.

As the registrar had predicted, the panel, two men and a woman, were already beginning to pack up. She strode in, heels clicking loudly and calling their attention to her.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you would mind remaining in your seats a few moments more.”

“You’re late,” said one of the men. “Auditions finished at three.”

“No, registration finished at three. Your notice said auditions could continue all afternoon, depending on the turn out.” Peggy looked around pointedly. “I guess you didn’t get the turn out you wanted. Which makes it even more prudent for you to remain a little longer.”

“Why’s that? You think you can outdo the other nineteen girls we’ve seen this afternoon?” asked the other man, but all three judges had stopped packing up, so Peggy counted it as a win.

“Not me, no. Someone else, far better than myself. She is talented and eager to work hard, and would be a credit to your production.” 

“Well where is this girl then? Registration has definitely finished,” the first man stated.

“She has registered already - before three o’clock, as required - and is just taking a moment to prepare herself. I’m sure, once you’ve seen her, you’ll agree she was worth the wait.”

“We’ll decide that,” said the woman judge, but she had her notebook open again.

Peggy spotted Angie at the door. “I’m sure you will. Now, if I may thank you for your patience, I would now like to introduce you to: Angela Martinelli.” She announced this with grand sincerity, and motioned for Angie to enter. She was relieved to see she looked far more calm and put-together than she had a few minutes ago.

“Thanks Peg,” Angie whispered as they passed.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Peggy whispered back, and left her to it.

* * *

  

Angie was late. 

And Peggy wasn’t worrying, not at all. Sometimes Bruno, the owner of the L&L Automat, kept her cleaning long after the shop had closed. He believed ‘the day was done when the work was done’, which meant anyone on the closing shift had to stay until the place was spotless. On a bad night that meant half past nine.

But it was only Tuesday; the Automat wasn’t likely to have had a busy evening, and it was twenty after nine already.

Peggy had churned this over long enough. She followed her gut and went looking for her friend.

It was only five blocks from the diner to the bar where they were meeting, but it wasn’t in a straight line and Peggy was well aware a girl could run into trouble in the space of a few hundred feet. She knew the route Angie was most likely to use - sticking to the major roads, avoiding the narrower lanes - and she peered down each lane and alley she passed, on both sides of the street.

She found her barely more than a block from the bar. There was a shout first - a sound that struck both hope and fear into Peggy’s heart. It was unmistakably Angie, and she was in trouble.

She ran for the alley the shout had come from, picking out the voices of men as she grew nearer.

“Just give us your purse, lady, and we’ll leave you be.”

“Speak for yourself Joe; I wouldn’t mind a little kiss from this sweet doll. Look at her, she’s got great gams.”

“Leave me alone,” Angie yelled. She sounded half angry, half terrified. 

Peggy finally reached the alley and checked the situation. Angie was backed against the side wall, the men in front of her, each standing to one side to prevent her making a run for it. 

The sound of Peggy’s heels caught their attention, and the one furthest away smirked at her. Peggy mentally named him Baldy. “Well lookee, the dame’s got a friend, and damn if she isn’t just as pretty. And hey, now there’s one for each of us.”

The man closest to Peggy turned to check her out. He was shorter, younger, and looked nervous. Probably the previously mentioned Joe.

“Good evening gentleman,” Peggy said, walking calmly towards them. “I see you’ve found my friend. I do hope you haven’t hurt her, or you might find you’ll regret that shortly. Are you okay, Angie?”

Angie nodded, but didn’t get a word out before Baldy. “Are you kidding me? I ain’t taking threats from some broad. Joe, take her purse.”

Peggy stopped only a few feet from Joe. “I wouldn’t do that, Joe.”

Joe was clearly conflicted, but the risk of being shamed in front of his friend won out. He made a grab for Peggy’s handbag. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, further off balance, then stomped on the foot he put out to catch himself. He cried out and fell in a heap at her feet.

“Sorry, Joe, but I need my income for my own expenses. As does my friend.” Peggy stepped past him to the now angry Baldy. “So I’m afraid you’ll both be leaving empty-handed. Won’t you?” She glared at him, and he glared back at her.

Baldy moved as though he intended pass her and help Joe up, then stepped sideways to take a swing at Peggy instead - but she saw him coming a mile away. She neatly ducked his swing, then drove her own fist into his stomach. He went down hard, gasping for breath.

“Wow, English. I knew you were some kinda spook or something, but that was amazing.” Angie stepped in beside Peggy as they casually left the alley. “They didn’t stand a chance against you, did they? A quick one-two and you had ‘em both down. Hey, you think you could teach me some of those moves? That was so neat.” 

Peggy smiled.

* * *

  

Angie swept into the parlor, crossing the wide room in quick steps and doing a twirl in front of Peggy. “What do you think?”

In many ways, Stark’s mansion suited Angie much better than it did Peggy, who was currently curled on the the chaise lounge with a book. Angie had the dramatic flair to match the over-sized rooms and rich furnishings, while Peggy tended to get lost in them. Right now Angie had found one of the many items of clothing left behind by Stark and his companions, a deep red dress which sparkled as she moved. She scooped the skirt out to each side and twirled again.

“It’s lovely,” said Peggy. “The color suits you.”

“Thanks. I’m wearing it out to the Italian Club’s relief dance tonight. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Thank you, but I’m quite happy with my book. How are you getting there and back? That’s being held at the Marriott, isn’t it?” Peggy asked, slipping her bookmark in and closing her book for now.

“Mr Jarvis agreed to take me, and pick me up again after. Eventually.”

“Oh?”

Angie grinned and perched on the end of the chaise by Peggy’s feet. “It took some persuading. He kept saying it was too late, he would be in bed by then, and his wife wouldn’t approve, you know the sort. I never figured there’d be two proper English types in my life, English! Don’t you ever get to have any fun?”

“I assure you, my life has plenty of excitement,” Peggy replied, unable to keep her amusement hidden.

“Excitement is not the same as fun,” said Angie, wagging a finger at her friend.

“So how did you convince Mr Jarvis in the end?”

“I didn’t,” Angie said. “Ana did.”

Peggy laughed. Of course the easiest way to get Edwin Jarvis to do something was to ask his wife. “And what did she say?”

“Oh you know Ana - she told me not to worry about it, she’d make sure ‘her Edwin would see me there and home again’.” Angie made an attempt at Ana’s accent and mangled it terribly, causing Peggy to laugh some more. Mr Jarvis had finally introduced the girls to his wife when they moved into Mr Stark’s property, since his wife was partially responsible for the upkeep. The three women got along quite well, much to his chagrin.

The doorbell interrupted them.

“That must be him,” said Angie, but then frowned as she passed the grandfather clock. “It’s only half six - he wasn’t due to arrive until seven.”

Peggy listened as Angie answered the door. She can hear well enough to recognise Mr Jarvis’ voice, and the tone of the conversation, but not the actual words. It’s only a minute or so before Angie returns, looking crestfallen.

“I take it Mr Jarvis has had to break your plans?” she asked gently.

Angie dropped dejectedly onto the sofa opposite Peggy. “Ana isn’t feeling well. He’s taking her to the doctor.”

Peggy felt sorry for her friend. The cost of staying in Mr Stark’s mansion was being on the outskirts of the city, and the party was too far away to attend without a vehicle. Neither of them much liked calling a taxicab when they were alone, either - but Peggy was really looking forward to a quiet night in, and getting all dressed up and accompanying Angie was the last thing she felt like doing.

Then a thought occurred to her.

“Angie, go finish getting ready. I’ll sort out your ride.”

“What? But how?”

Peggy smiled at her. “Just trust me.”

When the doorbell rang again forty-five minutes later, Angie was completely done up and curious to find out what Peggy had arranged. She peered around the door as Peggy answers it.

“Daniel, thanks for coming.”

“Well, I did owe you one, Peggy. Oh.” His jaw dropped as he caught sight of Angie in the deep red dress, and Peggy tried to smother her smirk.

“Daniel, this is my friend Angie Martinelli. Angie, this is Daniel Sousa, one of my colleagues.”

Angie stuck out her hand, smiling widely. “Very pleased to meet you. And thank you so much for this, I’m so very grateful.”

“It’s… nothing,” Daniel said, still apparently dazzled by the sight. “Anything for a friend of Peggy's.”

He took a half-step back to allow her to pass, and Angie grinned as she stepped out. “Don’t wait up for me, English!”

Daniel watched as Angie headed towards his car. “I thought you were asking me to do you a favor, Peg - you didn’t say anything about doing me one.”

“Just have fun, and get her back safe, and I’ll call it even,” Peggy replied, and heads inside to curl up with her book again.

* * *

  

It was her worst fear come to haunt her again. Angie was asleep in bed, and someone had followed Peggy home. 

Not Dottie, though the thought had crossed Peggy’s mind more than once since the fight at the airfield. She kept expecting to see the other woman around every corner - after all, it wouldn’t be that hard for an experienced operative to find out she was living in one of Stark’s mansions. But apparently the Russian was laying low.

In any case, she’d briefly seen a silhouette move past the window, and it was clearly a man. Too short to be Mr Jarvis, too broad-shouldered to be Mr Stark, and she’s pretty sure even Stark would have announced himself at the front entrance rather than sneaking around to the kitchen door. Peggy stood in the darkness of the living room, looking through the doorway to the far side of the kitchen. She had been on her way to bed and was wearing her nightclothes and a dressing gown. At least the gown was dark blue, and would help her blend into the shadows.

The moon was bright outside and there was no mistaking the shape of the person at the kitchen door. She stepped to the side of the doorway when he tried to peer in, then held her breath as he picked the lock. He had no trouble with it, quick and quiet. A professional.

Peggy suddenly remembered a device Stark had given her last time he’d visited, a small black box that he’d told her was a non-lethal but highly effective defensive weapon. It was in one of the drawers across the room, but it was too late to fetch it now. He was in the house.

Peggy took slow breaths. She focused on the soft sound of his steps across the tiles. And she hoped for all she was worth that Angie would be safe and unharmed at the end of this.

The intruder reached her doorway and she struck out, landing a direct hit to the face. He reacted fast, connecting with her shoulder, sending her stumbling back into the room. He was far stronger, but she was quicker, dodging most of his strikes. She also knew the room, and when the intruder caught his knee on the coffee table she grabbed the chance to put some distance between them.

They circled the furniture warily, sizing each other up. The man was in all black, and apart from a few grunts and growls, didn’t seem interested in talking. He had to be connected to the new case at work, though they were so early in the investigation that Peggy couldn’t pick who might be after her. She spotted a large ornamental vase on the other side of the room, slightly closer than the drawer with Stark’s device. It was probably worth a fortune, but if they circled around far enough…

The man lunged at her, stepping onto and then over the sofa Peggy had put between them. She ducked his fist and landed a hit in his side, but he barely reacted. His other arm came down into her stomach and her body went weak as the breath was knocked from her lungs. She fell, gasping, and could only watch as he smirked at her. His huge hand closed around her throat and she feebly tried to fight him off, but her strength had fled with the air.

Suddenly there was movement behind the intruder, and the vase came crashing down on his head. Peggy wondered briefly about spontaneous powers of the mind, but then the man staggered sideways, and she was sucking in lungfuls of air and _Angie was there_. Angie was backing away from them, flicking panicked glances back and forth between Peggy and the man, but breathing was all Peggy could do; breathing and watching in horror.

Then the man shook his head, seeming to regain his equilibrium, and he turned towards Angie - and suddenly Peggy could move after all. She crawled towards the drawers, pulled out Stark’s device, and used the furniture to pull herself to her feet. Her body was finally working again; she flicked the switches like Stark had shown her and pointed one end at the intruder. 

“Hey!”

He turned from where he’d backed a terrified Angie against the wall, and Peggy pressed the button. Two wires flew out and there was a zapping noise like nothing Peggy had ever heard before. The man collapsed into a shuddering heap at her feet.

There was a moment of expectant silence, but he didn’t get back up.

“Oh my gosh, Peggy!” Angie cried, sagging against the wall. “I thought we were goners.”

“Well, thanks to you, we’re not,” she replied. She needed to call this in, before he woke up - who knew how long Stark’s device would keep him out? But first, maybe, she’d sit down for a minute. She stepped on wobbly legs to the sofa furthest from the unconscious man, and a second later Angie was beside her. “I think that makes you my hero.”

“Me? I hardly did anything. One hit from behind is hardly a challenge when your opponent doesn’t even know you’re there.”

“He had the better of me,” Peggy told her. “If you hadn’t come along with that vase, I’d be… well, I’d have lost.”

Angie put an arm around Peggy’s shoulders and hugged her tight. “Well, we can be each other’s heroes then.”

And that sounded just about right.


End file.
